


Complacent

by vuas



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cock Warming, Consensual Somnophilia, Dom/sub, Domestic, F/M, Free Use, It’s still mild dark fic I think????, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Probably the softest pwp I’ll ever write, Rey secures the bag, Roommates, Vaginal Fingering, its all consensual babes, not sure what else to tag this so, with her vagina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuas/pseuds/vuas
Summary: They have an agreement, as roommates.Ben covers rent.And Rey spreads her legs anytime he wants.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 143
Kudos: 1741





	Complacent

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhhhhh I have no excuses at this point let’s ride

The weather this whole week has been the same—rolling thunderstorms in the morning, rain pattering the roof of the apartment she shares with Ben. The familiar, predictable noise lulls her back to sleep inside her little cocoon of blankets. Ben pays for electric—he keeps the house cold, and Rey has grown accustomed to napping underneath a huge pile of quilts, held still by their weight.

She’s grown accustomed to a lot of things.

It’s not a surprise when her door creaks and the mattress dips—Rey hardly bothers to open her eyes, blearily pliant as he nudges her to the far side. It’s still early—he always finds her first thing in the morning, smelling of toothpaste, when the apartment is still quiet and dark.

He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t  _ need _ to. Just wraps himself around her, slides a thigh between her legs and rocks them both softly together. She’s still wet from bedtime, the mess mostly undisturbed. 

(He likes her to keep it inside her cunt all night.)

One of his thick arms slides up to cup her breast, gently kneading, squeezing the sensitive points of her nipples, harder and harder until it’s impossible to pretend she’s asleep. She squirms as he strokes, kicking lightly, wondering how far he’ll go today.

He laughs at her weak protests when she makes contact with his shin, so quiet it’s more of an exhalation. “Shh,” he coaxes. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be gentle.”

“Mmkay,” she mumbles, snuggling further into the duvet. She trusts him. Always has. It’s so easy to let him hold her.

His cock is hard, bumping against her ass as he rocks, slow movements that end in a little burst of pleasure when she grinds the right way. He’s nice, to be doing this—giving instead of taking. So generous. 

“Feels good,” she murmurs, eyes still closed. She’s surrounded by him on all sides, dwarfed by his bulk. Safe from the world here. He’s so good at that—making her feel incandescently at home.

His thumb brushes her mouth—Rey doesn’t need any more invitation, opening up for him naturally; he settles his finger inside, on her tongue. The slide of it is messy—she’s always so wet and pliant where he’s concerned.

“Just be quiet for me, okay,” his voice is a little hoarse, still quiet, an undercurrent of urgency creeping in. “Suck.”

She’s too tired to nod; she closes her lips and does just that. He tastes like soap. Easy. Familiar. The rhythmic motion threatens to send her back under, unconsciousness a slip away.

Rey feels him shift; the mattress tipping her back a little. She can tell what he’s doing without having to look—hears the stretch of elastic as he tugs down his underwear, then the bump of unmistakable velvet skin against her backside, precum beading at the tip, sticky on her spine. 

He pushes between her thighs, just at her slit, through the slick already gathered there. She’s not ashamed of it—he’s got her neatly trained by now. Morning, noon or night; she should always be ready for him. Spreading her legs anytime he likes.

That’s what they agreed.

Ben rocks slowly, just like that— it’s a drug. She is absolutely limp in his arms, enjoying the pleasant motion, knowing what’s to come. Nearly every slide allows for the tip of his cock to bump her clit, a delicious, hazy pressure that makes her tremble, arch her back for a little more.

Sometimes he makes her orgasm. Today feels like one of those days.

“Spread your legs a little, sweetheart,” he grunts. His hand comes down between them to grip the base of his cock, ready to take her; he’s decided it’s time then. She tilts her hips a little, levering up her leg over his own and stretching her toes, cheek pressed down into the blankets. It’s easy to keep grounded by sucking his thumb—to be exactly what he needs. Rewarding, almost.

Rey moans quietly around his finger when he finally nudges in, cock slick but unforgiving. Only the head pops through, and then he stops—his usual routine. Ben likes this part the most; enjoys taking his time with it, watching her body acclimate. Rey shudders, trying to suck in deeper breaths of air—some of her hair is stuck to her mouth, and she’s drooling a bit into the pillows, which always pleases him. 

( _ You like me drunk on it, _ she giggled once, teasing. 

_ I like you undone,  _ he smiled.)

“Just the head,” he says in her ear, voice low, as if to comfort her. “That’s all.”

But that’s never  _ all. _

Rey has always wondered if other people find this as agonizing as she does—she despises the game; the one where he pushes just the tip into her hole. It’s devastating to be held open at her entrance but remain unfucked, unsatisfied. 

The jealous parts of her mind hiss, insisting that there are no _other_ _people_ he does this to. Rey sucks a little harder at his thumb, trying to resist the urge to slide back, take him fully. Show him what she’s capable of.

Ben likes her sleepy in the morning. Gets off on it.

“So wet,” he nuzzles her jaw, tugging her close. “So good for me, hmm?”

She nods wearily; his thumb slides out to pet her lips, wipe her own saliva on her cheek.

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers back, listening to the rain. She doesn’t think she could get more comfortable if she tried. Rey feels boneless, like she’s dizzy or floating in the bath. Maybe he’ll give her one—likes to clean her up after, sometimes. 

“Shh,” he reminds her, kissing her neck; his lips are soft against her skin. “Just lay there and be a good girl for me.”

She’s  _ good _ at that—he tells her so all the time, the praise seeping under her skin like sunlight. He likes her pussy. Likes her mouth. He likes her obedient.

That’s why she’s here.

Ben is slow about pushing the whole way inside; working his cock in at a microscopic pace. It gives her time to adjust—to feel every inch like new as he spreads her open, makes her body his. Eventually he bottoms out, Rey breathing a little harder, reluctantly trying not to squirm. She wants to be good, even if it’s hard.

And if it’s hard, his reward is always sweeter.

“So tight, Rey,” he flexes his hips, grinding deep. She feels her eyes roll back, cunt clenching, body responding naturally and slicking him up for what’s to come. She’s made for this—to be fucked.

He rocks them both slowly together, then apart, and together again; the slide of it painfully slow and luxurious, just how morning sex is supposed to be. He’s warm at her back, a soothing weight in the bed. No rush, nothing complicated or extreme—just laying in bed, stretched open on his cock while the rain falls.

Ben is close after just a few minutes—she can tell by the way his breathing turns erratic and his knuckles go white. He never lasts long this early in the day, worked up from morning wood; he grunts and pushes deep, finally unloading inside of her, fucking his come deep inside until she whines.

Rey twitches, face scrunching as her orgasm fades away—not today, then; Ben relaxes behind her, making no moves to get her off too, only shallowly thrusting his softening cock. He always does this—stays inside of her “to help”. Keep his spend plugged up for as long as possible. Sometimes it’s a pillow instead, propping her hips up while he inspects between her legs for any leaks. Sometimes it’s his fingers, crooked inside of her, pushing any stray bits back inside. Either way, it’s mandatory.

The rain slows a little as if sensing it’s over for now; Ben coos at her for a few minutes, showering her with praise and soft kisses. After awhile, he stretches, pulling out and tucking her back into bed. She can feel a damp spot—but that’s alright. Being home and all, it’s easy to toss her bedding in the laundry as often as necessary.

“I’ll have coffee ready after your shower,” he smoothes her hair down, squeezing her shoulder and stepping out into the hallway.

Rey smiles, drifting off to sleep, the sounds of distant thunder outside and the familiar noise of Ben puttering around the living room, trying to be quiet so she can stay in bed a little longer.

Not everyone is lucky enough to have such a thoughtful roommate.

  
  


* * *

It first happens on a Thursday.

She’s been crying for hours—“no longer the right fit” for her waitressing gig after standing up to an asshole customer. Rey has hit the point of puffy, ugly fever-face, her eyelashes sticking together with tears when poor Ben comes home. He unlocks the front door to find her hysterical on the floor with a half-eaten box of breadsticks and some wine: his eyes grow wide and panicked as he realizes the extent of her distress.

Ben sits awkwardly with her on the living room rug, offering her tissues and continuing to be the sweet man she knows him to be, endearing and kind—listens quietly for what must be a half hour, letting her speak through hiccuping sobs about paying for her cell-phone bill, her credit card debt, and god forbid  _ rent— _ all due in less than three days.

Handing her what  _ has _ to be the last Kleenex according to the small mountain she’s built off to the side, Ben clears his throat.

“I could help,” he says, eyes dark, adjusting his tie like it’s constricting him. He’s long abandoned the buttoned-up look he takes to the office; Rey is comforted by his rolled up shirt sleeves and grey socks. He’s a bit more manageable like this; easier to confide in.

Rey’s face screws up. “Oh—I didn’t mean—God I’m not—asking for  _ money.”  _ Christ, she was botching this entire friendship, wasn’t she?

He shrugs. “I could cover rent—hell, could do it to the end of the lease, easy. It’s not an issue with my salary. We both know that.”

Rey stares in blatant disbelief. “Ben,” she whispers, shaking her head, feeling humiliated. Of course this was happening; the one man she respected, seeing her at her lowest. “I can’t expect you to do that.”

He rolls his neck. “If you’re uncomfortable just taking it, you can pay me back in other ways.”

Rey swallows, wiping her cheek with a sleeve, allowing his words to settle around them. 

Ben is a good man—she’s always known this—but sometimes she gets the impression that there’s something under the surface, biding its time. Hidden and murky, a little uncontrollable.

His eyes drape over her huddled form—Rey is painfully aware of her ratty sweatshirt and ragged blanket; this is probably the most pathetic he’s ever seen her. Yet somehow—she feels like he’s observing her in an entirely new light, like she’s something to eat.

Ben runs his tongue over his bottom lip; plush, pink. She needs to stop having these thoughts about her roommate, but it’s difficult when he looks at her with those eyes. “If you want, Rey. I’ll help.”

“You….are you serious? You’d  _ do _ that? Cover  _ all _ the rent and still let me live here?” She gapes at him, cold shock unfurling in her gut.

“Yeah,” his mouth twitches, like he’s trying to gauge the gamble of his life. A tell, in hindsight.

“Like the dishes, or—I’ll do all the laundry—“

“No.” 

It’s a simple answer, but one that carries so much weight with it. His eyes meet hers, searing in their intensity—Rey goes very, very still.

Prey knows when it’s caught, after all.

* * *

“Rey? Can you come here?”

She wanders out of her room when called—routinely, now, to the sound of his voice wrapped around the syllables of his name. 

Her days are different under this new order—slower, sweeter. Without having to maintain a job, Rey can explore the other things that fulfill her; writing, reading, tinkering with various scrap. No more running to catch the bus or taking abuse at the till from old ladies; just lazy mornings, strong coffee, and afternoons spent however she likes. True freedom from the daily stress of her old life.

Interspersed with  _ this _ .

(And  _ oh _ , how she loves it.)

The scene in the living room is innocuous; Ben sitting in his usual spot, arm thrown over the back of the couch. He smiles warmly when she walks in, grabbing a pillow off the couch and throwing it down at his feet.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

She shyly smiles back, brain already pinging with the sugar-sweet of his tone as she crosses over to him. Rey doesn’t have a favorite way in particular that they organize the “exchange” yet—but kneeling beneath him is pretty close to the top, the position coaxing her worries away, able to feel the solid sureness of his body above her. The pillow is, as usual, soft under her knees, which is excellent—she’s usually down here awhile.

When she’s folded her limbs in neatly, it’s a relief to finally lean forward and rest her cheek at his thigh; Ben is warm personified, a balm against all the time she’s spent alone in life. She relishes it, nuzzling between his legs until her nose bumps his crotch.

“Can I?” She asks, the barest hint of a whine in her question. His eyes dip to her face, a smile widening his features.

“Just gonna put it in that lovely mouth for a bit, I think,” he says, angling her head as he pulls his cock free from his sweats. “You don’t have to suck, sweetpea.”

Rey opens her mouth automatically at his words; he’s still mostly soft— though that seems to be changing rather rapidly. There’s the barest hint of precome at the tip, salty on her tongue as he feeds her the rest, pushing until her chin rests on his belly. He strokes her head as she breathes through her nose, tongue reflexively twitching every few seconds against the ridge.  _ Filled _ . Tasting only him.

“That’s good,” he pets her hair, turning his attention back to the television. It should frighten her, how quickly she feels like dozing off already, mouth achy and pliant. The truth is, she  _ has  _ fallen asleep like this on a Sunday afternoon a few weeks back: Ben had to shake her awake and help wipe the drool on her chin, a fond expression on his face.

And then he’d pulled her into his lap and bounced her on his cock until she cried.

Rey drifts for a while with that thought, remembering all of it; how it felt, how it ached, how easily he had sat her down, impaled her,  _ used _ her thoroughly. Afterwards, keeping her there like a prized possession, calming her hiccups and whimpering all while his come dripped out of her, making a mess on the couch.

How he’d made her lick it up.

The credits eventually begin to roll on his show; Ben shifts a little. Sometime in the last half hour he’s grown hard in her mouth; allowed her to slowly slide off to a comfortable point until only the tip remained within her lips. He’s excited—she can taste the steady pearls of salt leaking from the slit, sliding down her throat.

“Hmm,” he leans back, popping his joints, sliding a little lower on the couch to make himself comfortable. “Go ahead, pet.”

Ben has taught her a lot of new things—the most useful of which to deep throat him. Sure, her tonsils bruise the next day, but it’s worth it; to have her world narrowed down to a hot, white heat, unable to think of anything but him.

He cups her chin, smiling, easing her off after a few tries.

“Poor thing. You seem tired.”

Her face crumples—so badly she wants to be perfect, but Ben is infuriatingly sweet when he decides not to push her—but she  _ is  _ tired. Didn’t sleep much last night. No reason in particular. Ben probably noticed that morning when he’d come to fuck her, how sleepy she’d been. Barely conscious as he used her.

“‘Mm sorry,” she answers, gulping air, voice raw.

“That’s ok, baby. I’ll do the work—just open that sweet mouth for me. Stick your tongue out.” He fists the base of his cock, hand squelching through all her saliva—Rey winces, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

She leans closer: doing just that, eager to obey even as she blushes, squirming a bit to ease the tension in her thighs. Maybe he’d let her grind on his shoe later if she earned it. Ben doesn’t like to waste come—even if he’s just jerking off—he’s said before he wants to put it somewhere it belongs. 

In her. On her. Everywhere. His.

It only takes a few minutes, the TV quiet in the background. Rey sits patiently, watching him extract pleasure from himself; eventually his jaw goes tight and he grunts, spilling into her open mouth. 

She waits until he’s fully done to swallow, safe inside her.

“Good girl,” he pants, bending over to kiss her forehead. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Shh,” he strokes her hair. “I’m working, baby.”

Rey squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face into his neck, swallowing another whine. It's just so  _ hard— _ sitting in his lap, legs spread wide around his waist, impaled on his thick cock.

Another few minutes of silence go by, interspersed with the occasional sound of him typing away. Rey slips a little, muscles trembling in protest, forcing it deeper. The moan she has to muffle into his neck, against his scruff.

One of his hands drifts down, curving over her ass and dipping into the drenching slick where they’re connected. He hums, drawing pleasant circles into her skin, painting her with it. Petting around her slit, carefully, lightly across her clit—

She  _ keens— _ it’s the most direct contact he’s given her in days; her thighs quiver with delight, accidentally grinding down in his lap. Rey struggles to right herself, but Ben smiles, gives her a few teasing thrusts: not helping  _ at all. _

“You’re so worked up,” he mutters, nuzzling at her hair. “I bet you could come just sitting in my lap. Poor thing. All sticky, aren’t you?”

She used to think he’d be merciful—but Rey has learned he’s far from it. Knows, as he fucks up into her, once, twice, that Ben Solo is a very mean man.

“But you’re such a good little cockwarmer. Keeping it all  _ stuffed _ here,” his palm runs between them, along her abdomen, pressing hard until the outline of his dick is under her skin. “Are you happy, baby? Like this?”

Rey rocks her hips, nodding into his chest. She’s incandescently pleased. Completely fulfilled.

In every way.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The smell of roasting garlic must draw him out of his room—she’s just barely had time to shut the oven door when he turns the corner.

“Smells good—what’s for dinner?”

“Chicken and potatoes, with that rosemary butter you liked— _ ah.” _

It’s between heartbeats, so fast that one second she’s wiping her hands on a dish towel, and then next she’s been bent over the counter, a hand twisted in her hair.

There’s no preamble to it—only fingertips working their way under her dress, tugging down her panties.

“I think that recipe might be my new favorite,” he says nonchalantly as he works her body, kicking her legs wider, tugging down his sweats.

She’s wetter than what feels appropriate; shivering as he languidly thrusts between her thighs. She huffs and arches her back a little, trying to get the right angle: squeaks as the head stretches her open for what’s to come.

“I’ll be quick,” his lips brush her shoulder. “Just a frustrating day at work.”

Rey nods, eyes locked on her reflection in the stainless steel of the microwave beside her. He always tells her before he gets rough, which isn’t very often—usually spends his time taking her slow, sweet and gentle.

Rey decides not to think too hard about why she likes it so much when he’s not.

He steadies her body with a solid hand on her shoulder, the other pinning her dress at her waist. Sinks into her with a grunt, pushing until there’s nowhere left for him to go. It knocks the air from her lungs—Rey has to go up onto tiptoes to accommodate his height. It makes her feel small. Safe. Controlled.

“Fuck,” he snarls, tipping her head back, forcing a gasp from her lips. “How are you always so tight?”

“I don’t know,” she moans, nearly vibrating. The way he says it makes her feel beautiful, even with her cheek pressed against the counter. Cherished.

Each thrust knocks the wind out of her; she’ll have bruises tomorrow on her hips, the way they hit the countertop. Ben takes his pleasure ruthlessly, squeezing every last drop from her body, her toes just barely scraping the floor.

“Take it,” he snarls, “Come on, baby.”

She’s close to tapping out, hair mussed and cunt dripping when he drops down over her, wrapping his arms around her middle and constricting his arms as tight as he can—Rey sees stars, feeling nothing but Ben as something white hot pools deep inside of her.

It’s a small relief, when he pulls out; Rey is still trembling, a mess of limbs, hair tangled, quietly gasping for air.

“Keep it in for me, or I’ll get the plug.” He lightly pats her ass, similar to how one would soothe a scared pet. Ben hums to himself, apparently pleased—pulling her up, smoothing her dress, finger-combing her hair. It’s purely for comfort when his arms wrap around her, settling her against his broad chest, rocking gently until she can stop shaking.

Eventually, when her sniffles taper off, his hand cups her jaw, tilting her face up to place a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Let me know when to set the table.”

Rey nods happily, shivering, straining to keep her cunt full of his come.

* * *

It’s Friday—they always watch a movie on Friday. Ben is always exhausted from work, eager to relax with his feet on the coffee table, nursing a beer. Rey used to be like that—tired from a long work week. Not anymore.

The beer part she still has down; only half a bottle sitting heavy in her stomach when Ben slides his arm around her, fluffing a blanket across them both. She lets him tug and nudge until she’s neatly propped beneath his arm, cheek pressed to his collarbone.

She snuggles into the warm knit fabric, letting his body heat make her a little drowsy; the movie is half interesting, but not nearly able to capture her attention the same way the hand pressing her thighs open is.

He rests his chin on top of her head, humming, hand sliding across the satin fabric of her underwear. Rey knows the rules; be still. Be good. Be sweet. It’s so  _ hard _ when he rubs those easy, gentle circles right over her underwear. Giving her everything, yet diluting it; lacking direct touch. 

It’ll be an hour. Maybe two, before he lets her orgasm.

The slow movements draw her eyes closed; her limbs turn soft and relaxed in response—Rey nearly dozes off until some crash-bang from the television speakers echoes around the room.

She jerks herself awake in his arms with a heated whine—the steady pull of his fingers turns from pleasant background noise to radiance in a blink.

“Just the movie, sweetheart,” he tucks the blanket back down around her legs. “Relax. You can go back to sleep.”

He  _ says  _ that—but his fingers are gracing the edges of her underwear, tickling their way beneath the cloth, searching for new ways to make her tremble. Just as achingly slow—but deliberate strokes that have her tilting her hips with hope.

“Kitten,” he hums, lips grazing her temple, settling there contentedly so he can speak against her fevered skin. “Do you need help?”

The nickname pools in her abdomen. Words burble in her mouth, mulling over a response that will get her what she needs; his turn of phrase could mean  _ anything  _ he wants it to. Help staying still? Help with the blanket? Help coming all over his fingers?

He likes her to answer wrong. So he can keep making her plead.

Rey puffs, increasingly frantic; her hands fumble through the blanket to try and twist into the sleeve of his hoodie. Desperate to hold on to something; Ben shifts, dragging her more firmly alongside him, so her thighs are split between one of his own.

“Ben,” she squeaks; eyes fluttering. Every drop of plot from the movie slips out of her mind in favor of the warm fingertips teasing, spreading her apart. How easily she gives, her body pliant to his gentle ministrations. 

“There it is,” he murmurs, skin slippery with her own essence. “You’re all wet, sweetpea.”

Her teeth are gritted with the effort not to growl at him— _ of course I’m wet you haven’t let me come in days I think I’m going to snap— _ but Ben soothes her with eager kisses beneath her jaw. “My needy baby,” he groans. “You’ve been so good all week, huh? Taking cock in all those pretty holes?”

“Yes, I did,” she cries when he sinks a finger inside of her; longer and thicker than her own. “Please—“

“I give you everything, right? Make my sweet girl happy?” His finger works in and out of her with practiced ease; he slips in another, stretching her open, wiggling until she can take it in full. Her mouth drops open in a silent sob when his thumb finally finds her clit: her legs kick out weakly as he rubs over the swollen nub. 

“Ben,” she mumbles, body jerking in time with the leisurely circles between her thighs. “I am, I’m so happy—please, I love it—“

“You love spreading your legs for me, Rey?” His fingers speed up, making her arch, muffling a squeal into his neck. “You like being my perfect little cockwarmer? Bending over whenever I ask?”

“Yeah,” she chants, thrusting her hips against his hand. “Wanna come, please? Please—I’m so  _ close—“ _

_ “ _ I  _ know _ ,” he squeezes her around the middle with his free arm. “My good girl wants her orgasm so bad, doesn’t she?”

“ _ Ben Ben Ben— _ ” she sobs, squirming to the tune of his fingers, the blanket suffocating, his body solid beneath her. She’s close to bursting, something unfurling inside of her, fluttery spasms that pull tears from her eyes. 

“Rey,” he nudges her over the edge, “-sweet thing, come for me.”

It rips an awful whine from her throat, as she tips into it, slowly at first and then all at once; until there’s nothing but his hand working over swollen, sensitive skin and then  _ pushing _ her further so she's forced to feel the full extent of it. Rey jerks in his grasp, infinitely small compared to the cage of his arms. 

“Wasn’t that nice?” he drawls, nipping at her throat, licking the sweat from her skin. “Don’t you feel better? My baby was all pent up, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah,” she huffs, stretching her toes, trembling as he leisurely fucks her with his fingers through the aftershocks, the sound of her own wetness loud compared to the television. Rey has to bite her lip to contain the rather pathetic noises she’s making. “T-thank you, Ben,” she manages shyly.

“That's ok,” he says absently, fingertips rubbing against her inner wall, coaxing out more slick to drench her thighs. “You don’t have to thank me,” he twists to peer at her face, eyes crinkled with joy to see her so undone. “Just promise you’ll stay?”

Rey nods feebly, nuzzling into his chest, breath evening out. Sated, completely at ease, even with him still inside her.

There’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> It’s hard to see other people live your dreams 
> 
> fight me on Twitter abt it @TheVuasLog


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